Shadowbound

by Dianne Sylvan

“I do have a theory. I don’t think we’re interchangeable, but . . . suppose a Pair of us were Bondbroken, leaving one alive and going mad. What if somehow the empty space in the Circle could then be filled by someone else of the dead Signet’s bloodline—not as a replacement for the dead, but as someone to fill the gap in the Circle long enough for us to defeat Morningstar? That’s a lot of ifs, but if there were even the possibility, Morningstar would have to hunt down anyone who could potentially fill that empty space. Otherwise killing one of us wouldn’t guarantee victory.”

  “But now it will,” Miranda said with a nod. “Now we’re all we’ve got.” She stared out at the trees for a while before adding, “Maybe it’s just as well. If Jenny was the only one, that means she’d replace me, which would mean I’d be dead. Even if somehow David survived that and wasn’t insane, I can’t imagine making him live without me. I know what that feels like. I survived his death, and I was willing to keep going, but . . . if some random guy had shown up wanting to take his place, even without bonding to me directly . . . I don’t think I could have lived that way.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “It seems to be an awful lot for Persephone to ask of us . . . it wouldn’t be fair, or right. But I guess there are a lot more lives in the balance than just ours.”

  Miranda suddenly realized she’d brought both of them down with her brooding, when they should be celebrating. She shoved the thoughts of Morningstar away; there would be plenty of time to deal with that after this weekend. For just a couple of days, maybe they could all simply enjoy each other’s company.

  “Okay, enough of that,” she said. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand. Tomorrow’s your wedding, Mr. Burke. Do we get cake?”

  He laughed. “No, none of that. Really, the ceremony’s barely going to be worth putting on a tux. After that Deven wants to go dancing—there’s a hunting ground in the city that’s already Signet affiliated so it’ll be easy to secure.”

  “That sounds like fun,” she said. “I’m still kind of amazed you got him to do this.”

  “I honestly thought he’d say no,” Jonathan admitted. “But at the time . . . seeing him go through that again, thinking it was going to get worse . . . I had to try.”

  “How is he now?”

  “He’s been fine since then. I know I overreacted, but when I think of watching him fade away again, I panic. I would do anything to save him from that . . . but all I can do is be a battery for this power-web Nico made to hold him together. I feel utterly helpless. In that moment all I could think of to do was propose. Silly as it sounds now, damned if he didn’t say yes.”

  She watched the emotions play over his face. “I guess he was pretty surprised.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” Jonathan grinned, his levity returning. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but . . . he cried.”

  “No way!”

  “Yeah. Then he dragged me to bed for nearly five hours of very intense and enthusiastic sex. I could count the number of times that’s happened on one hand. He’s been way more affectionate in the last couple of years, but still, this was different. Apparently the promise of a ring lit him on fire.”

  “You really got to him,” Miranda said. “Good for you.”

  She heard another door open behind them and turned in time to see Deven and David emerge from the house. David came to stand behind Miranda, wrapping his arms around her and watching the view with her for a moment; Deven and Jonathan did much the same.

  “Do you feel reassured?” Miranda asked.

  David actually nodded. “We made some adjustments, but the plan Dev came up with is rather inspired.”

  “So shouldn’t you guys be having wild bachelor parties or something?” Miranda looked over at the Pair. “Strippers, booze?”

  Deven smiled. “I can see naked men any time I want. And I have better booze here than I could get at a strip club.” He tilted his head back to look up at Jonathan, giving the Consort the opportunity to kiss him on the nose. “What about you?”

  Jonathan gazed down at him adoringly. “I’d rather be here with you. Not to mention with our friends, who’ve come all this way to watch me make an honest man out of you.”

  The Prime laughed. “No ritual in the world could do that, my love.”

  Miranda couldn’t help but grin broadly at the two of them—she so rarely got to see them being cute. Pretty soon Jacob and Cora would be here, and . . .

  “Guys,” she said, “We should make sure Olivia doesn’t feel weird being the only single person here. It’s got to be hard enough already, being Prime alone.”

  David kissed her ear. “I’m glad you thought of that, beloved. I guess that means shagging out here on the terrace is off limits.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Miranda replied. “A lot of people would enjoy watching that.”

  “Like who?”

  Deven and Jonathan each raised a hand.

  Miranda giggled. “See?”

  “Hell, let’s do it right,” Deven said. “We’ll all come out here, throw down some tarps, and have a nice orgy.”

  “Not tarps,” Jonathan suggested. “Twister mats.”

  They were all laughing when the Haven Steward called Deven. “Sire, the Pair of Eastern Europe has arrived.”

  “Thank you.” Dev took Jonathan’s hand and pulled him away from the wall. “Come on, love, let’s go say hello and get them settled.” As they reached the door, Deven called over to them, “We’ll pick up the Twister mats on our way back.”

  • • •

  When they left the Haven the next night, David took a moment to scan each of the two limos for explosives; Morningstar didn’t usually use them, but a bomb would have been an ideal way to eliminate any of them instantly, and they did seem to get blown up on an alarmingly regular basis. He even did a quick visual inspection to satisfy his own nerves.

  The courthouse was full of Elite, and the Signets all Misted from the car into the building so there was no way they could be shot disembarking as Varati had been. It wasn’t without its costs: Olivia wasn’t a strong Mister yet and ended up being very loudly sick in the ladies’ room when she materialized.

  David smiled sympathetically at her when she emerged still faintly green. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “It looks like you’ve got pretty good control already. It’s just the vertigo that you have to conquer.”

  Despite her nausea, Olivia gave him an appreciative look. “You look really hot in a tux.”

  He grinned. “Not so bad yourself, Prime.”

  She was wearing a lovely forest green dress that set off her gray-green eyes and even had her dreads pulled up elegantly, showing off the intricate tattoos all over her shoulders.

  Before either of them had a chance to feel awkward, the courthouse door opened and one of the Elite guards came in with Cora’s Nighthound, who did not respond well to Misting. He handed off Vràna’s leash to the Queen, bowed, and went back outside.

  Cora, too, looked beautiful in her shining royal blue with her dark hair falling down over her back, and he told her so in Czech, which made her blush. “Thank you, my Lord.”

  Even surrounded by such beauty, it was Miranda who made his heart skip. She had chosen another dress in the same violet shade as the one she’d worn to the Council ball, and just like that night, neither of them could look away from each other. She walked up to him, and they joined hands.

  “Are the boys ready?” she asked.

  He looked around; Jonathan was talking to the justice of the peace, but Deven was nowhere in sight. It felt a little strange to be in an empty government building at night—it was just them, their numerous guards, and the JP. David walked over and asked Jonathan, “Where’d he go?”

  “There’s a little room over there where the bridal party usually waits,” Jonathan replied. “I think he went in there to have a panic attack.”

  The courthouse had a chapel, but Deven had said “absolutely not” to that, so they had opted for another room set asid
e for nonreligious weddings; it was small and fairly unadorned, with a few seats and, against the back wall, a studio piano that looked like it had been constructed at the same time as the building. The room was big enough for perhaps twenty guests. In this case there were five guests and a dog, or, as Jacob had told the human security officer, a “service animal.”

  David followed Jonathan’s gesture and poked his head into the little side room, which was lit with candles and lined with mirrors, all showing nothing but the opposite wall.

  Deven stood staring into one of the mirrors. When he heard the door open he turned toward David. “I just needed a minute.”

  David came to stand in front of him. “Cold feet?”

  He shook his head. “It’s funny . . . this is the one rite of passage I never expected to take part in. I know we’ve been together for sixty years, so it’s not as if we weren’t already committed, but . . . it just feels different, somehow. I don’t think it really hit me until we got here. I’m getting married, David. Me. I have no idea what to do with that.”

  David laughed, understanding perfectly. “Believe it or not, I felt the same way, and it was just me and Miranda with Faith as a witness. We weren’t even dressed up—she said she didn’t care about a wedding, she just wanted a marriage. I kept telling myself it was just a human convention, that it was our Signet bond that mattered . . . and I was wrong. It was different. Not more important, or stronger, just different.”

  They stood facing each other for a moment, David reaching up to straighten Deven’s Signet, then smooth out his lapel, before smiling a little and saying, “Sometimes I wonder how things would have been different if we’d had a chance to do this.”

  Deven raised an eyebrow. “Would you have asked?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps . . . or I might have spared myself the disappointment. Even then I knew I was far more emotionally invested in us than you were.”

  “What makes you so sure of that?” Deven asked, genuinely taken aback.

  “I just knew.” David smiled again, this time with a touch of regret. “Up to that point I had never loved anyone the way I did you. After you became Prime and your Signet didn’t light for me, I knew our days were numbered. If I couldn’t be your Consort, I might have settled for being your husband, whether for a year or a hundred . . . but eventually Jonathan would still have come along.”

  Deven caught his hands and held them firmly. “If you thought for a minute that I didn’t love you as much as you did me, then I was a failure from our first night together. I know I never gave you what you deserved. I wish . . . I wish I could make it up to you. I’ve never forgiven myself for hurting you.”

  “You never forgive yourself for anything,” David reminded him. “But I forgive you. And the truth is . . . deep down I’ve known since the night I met Miranda that your breaking my heart was the best gift you could have given me. It just took me a while to understand.” He leaned in and kissed Deven softly, and they were silent again for a minute, holding on to each other as they had so many times before, before David sighed and stepped back. “I’ll see you out there.”

  He had his hand on the doorknob when Deven said, “David . . .”

  David paused and turned back. Deven was smiling almost wistfully, his eyes shining in the candlelight as he said, “I would have said yes.”

  Something in David’s heart felt like it let go of a long-held breath. He returned the smile, nodding, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  • • •

  Forever is so very long, my love

  And ours is not an ordinary fairy tale . . .

  The room’s having a piano was a coincidence, but Miranda couldn’t resist sitting down in the last couple of minutes before things got underway.

  Then she rose and stood next to Jonathan, while David stood next to Deven—they’d been asked to be best woman and best man, respectively, each handing over a ring at the right time.

  She watched, smiling, thinking of that night she and David had stood in front of an old man who looked an awful lot like this one, with Faith looking on. They’d been wearing exactly what they would have any other night, long coats and swords and all. She didn’t remember any of the words; all she remembered was being happy, smiling up into David’s eyes, wondering what she was getting into . . . even though she already knew.

  “We are gathered here tonight . . .”

  Her face had probably looked a lot like Deven’s did as the justice of the peace began his lines—the Prime looked a little surprised at himself, being where he was, but also much happier than she’d ever seen him. Once or twice, she thought she saw his eyes start to tear up, but it was gone as quickly as it came and could have been a trick of the light.

  She glanced down at the rather large gold wedding band she was holding. It was enormous; Jonathan had the sort of fingers usually found on people who ground bones to make bread.

  She turned the ring in her hand and noticed for the first time it was inscribed inside the band in incredibly tiny letters: “Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the Sun doth move . . .” The second half must be carved into Deven’s ring. “Doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love.” That, for some reason, brought tears to her eyes, and she was sniffling when she stepped forward to hand the ring to Deven. He squeezed her hand gently when he took it.

  “With this ring, I thee wed.”

  Miranda looked over and caught David’s eye. He smiled, and she felt love and appreciation from him, warming her from the inside out. She returned it as well as the smile.

  As Jonathan had promised, the ceremony was very short; rings, brief vows, and that was pretty much it. It was interesting watching the officiant—she could tell by the pauses before pronouns that he hadn’t performed a lot of same-sex weddings, but he was perfectly glad to be there, and his smile was genuine as he concluded:

  “By the power vested in me by the state of California and the county of Sacramento, I now pronounce you, Jonathan and Deven Burke, joined for as long as you both shall live.” He grinned, the expression lighting up his wrinkled face so much that Miranda started giggling. “Now, kiss!”

  Deven was laughing as Jonathan grabbed him and spun him around, kissing him passionately. They ended up standing in each other’s arms, and everyone else came up and hugged each other, then the Pair. They both looked absolutely blissful, neither entirely willing to move away from the other.

  “All right,” Jacob said, “What sort of amusements did you have in mind for the rest of the evening? A champagne toast followed by moderately awkward ballroom dancing?”

  Deven’s smile turned mischievous. “Not a chance,” he said. “You all brought a second set of clothes—go change. We’re going clubbing.”

  • • •

  The others had already walked out of the room, but Jonathan lingered to pay the JP and have him sign the marriage license, and Deven stood there watching him for a moment before lowering his gaze to his left hand, where the ring now encircled his finger.

  David had suggested platinum, which was what his and Miranda’s were made from, but Jonathan had made one of his few serious requests in the whole situation and asked for gold. Theirs was already a nontraditional wedding, he had explained; he wanted one traditional thing.

  The officiant left with a parting grin and wave, and Jonathan came back over to where Deven was standing, holding up the calligraphed piece of paper. “Look,” he said. “We’re official.”

  “There it is, in black and white,” Deven murmured, touching his name . . . his old name, then the new. It was going to take a while to get used to the change, but he’d been adamant about it—that, he said, was his traditional thing.

  “Come on,” Jonathan said. “We should get changed—let’s just grab the little waiting room next door.”

  Deven tucked the license in his bag and brought it along, shutting the waiting room door.

  He had his coat and shirt off before he felt Jonathan’s eyes on him
and looked back over his shoulder. “You’re getting distracted, husband.”

  Between one breath and the next Jonathan had hold of him and shoved him back against the mirror—not hard enough to break it, thank God—and was kissing him hard, hands already trying to get the rest of Deven’s tux off.

  Jonathan said in his ear, “Say that again.”

  Deven knew exactly what he meant, and grabbed the Consort’s hair and pulled his head back so their eyes met. “Husband,” Deven said.

  A growl, and they were kissing again, this time headed down toward the floor—it was probably filthy, but neither especially cared in that precise moment. That was why soap, and dry cleaning, had been invented.

  “We do have someplace to be,” Deven panted, though it took quite an effort to remember how to speak English with Jonathan doing what he was doing.

  “They can wait a few minutes.”

  “Just a few . . . we’ll have to hurry.”

  “Then shut up and let me get down to business.”

  Deven laughed, rested his head back against the dingy industrial carpet, and surrendered without a fight.

  Fourteen

  The club was called La Caccia, and it was similar to the Black Door in both form and function, just a bit smaller. Even half a block away, waiting for the limo to make its way through traffic up to the front doors, Miranda could hear pounding bass, and there was a line outside that snaked around the building.

  David was tense next to her. He claimed he was only worried about the security plan. She let it go at that but said, “Oh, come on—it’s their first quickie as a married couple. Cut them some slack.”

  The plan wasn’t going to collapse from a half-hour delay arriving at the club; a far bigger hazard for the vampires was the trip back to the Haven. Not only was it possible for Morningstar to attack the limos and take out enough tires to cause an accident and leave them vulnerable, it was imperative that no one find the Haven itself.

  Dozens of Elite had been deployed for tonight, and the club itself, which was already watched over by tight security to make sure its human patrons weren’t injured by its vampire patrons, would have fifty extra guards inside and outside the building, even on the roof.